


memorable disasters

by preromantics



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: our times Kurt and Blaine couldn't figure out how to work a long distance relationship and one time distance didn't matter. / Future!fic. Wherein there is Rachel-approved webcam sex, needy roommates with bad timing, chain emails, the worst of craigslist, dick replicating kits, horribly inappropriate misplaced metaphors, and a moment that might actually be memorable in a way that doesn't require extensive therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memorable disasters

**one.**  
  
"Wait," Blaine says, his voice fainter and full of more static than usual through Kurt's macbook speakers, "is this supposed to be a tour of the apartment or a tour of what I think is your armpit in that great green vest?"  
  
"Gross, Blaine," Kurt says, "just give me a second and then you'll get your tour." He walks until he gets to the tiny living room (and kitchen and bathroom, because for some reason the only bathroom in the apartment doesn't have a door anymore) and finds a suitably sturdy stack of boxes to balance the laptop on.   
  
He covers the webcam for a second so Blaine can't see anything, even though he keeps talking, asking if Kurt found any of the post-its he'd left in the boxes and luggage yet. (Kurt found two on the roadtrip there, both hearts with little messages that Rachel had declared adorable and then cried about not having a boyfriend like Blaine and Burt had awkwardly ignored like he hadn't seen.)   
  
"Tada," he says after he gets everything balanced, pushing the screen back until he can see Blaine's face in fullscreen and Blaine can see the living-everything room Kurt is standing in.   
  
Blaine hums, leaning close enough to his screen that his face becomes blurry on Kurt's end. "Wow," he says, "it's --"  
  
"Blaine!" Rachel says, stepping into the room from her bedroom. She stops short across the room and does a little twirl, nearly knocking over a box of Kurt's boots. "Isn't it great?"  
  
"It's small," Blaine says, after a pause, talking loudly -- presumably because he thinks Rachel can't hear him, but the apartment really  _is_  small and in reality Rachel is definitely within hearing distance. Kurt is definitely glad that their bedrooms at least have a bathroom separating them. There are some things he doesn't need her to hear, or vice versa.   
  
"It's  _New York_ ," Rachel enthuses. Kurt glances around the room -- they can't paint without losing their deposit, they can use small tack nails but nothing sturdy, the wood floors are old and scratched, and there are water stains under the window that his dad has promised to fix next time he can get out with more of Kurt and Rachel's things in the truck -- but despite everything, Kurt has to agree with Rachel, just a little.  _New York._   
  
When he glances back at the screen Blaine isn't squinting to get a good look at the first stop on his webcam apartment tour anymore, instead he's focused on Kurt, smiling. Automatically, Kurt rolls his shoulders back, fighting both an answering grin and something achy in the center of his chest.   
  
"Well," Rachel says, "I'll let you get back to your camera sex."  
  
"We're not --" Kurt starts, Blaine echoing him, but Rachel waves them off with a sweeping gesture.  
  
"It's fine," she says, "it's perfectly healthy for two people in a committed long-distance relationship to use technology as an acceptable replacement for --"  
  
"Please do not say orgasms," Kurt says, and Blaine laughs, sharp through the speakers.  
  
Rachel ignores them and leans into a box to grab a jacket. "I'm going outside for coffee for fifteen minutes," she says, winking exaggeratedly, "it was nice seeing you, Blaine!"  
  
"It would take more than fifteen minutes," Blaine points out as Rachel slips out of the front door to their apartment.   
  
"That's what you chose to correct?" Kurt says, turning and bending so he can fully face Blaine on the screen. The Blaine he can see is slightly fuzzy and paler than usual in low-quality, but it's the closest he's going to get to really seeing Blaine until he can get back to Ohio when classes break for the holidays in a few months. It's not nearly enough, especially now in the suddenly all-too empty and mostly unpacked apartment.   
  
"I miss your face," Blaine says after the silence between them has stretched for a while.   
  
Kurt manages to smile with just a curl at the side of his lip, a little wry. "My face is right here," he says, picking up his mac from the boxes and leaning in, only letting himself frown at the blank corner when he knows Blaine can't see.  
  
"How about the rest of that thrilling apartment tour I promised?" he asks.  
  
Blaine laughs, low and rolling enough that it almost sounds like he's nearby. "I was kind of hoping for that webcam sex Rachel promised was healthy, but the tour works too."  
  
Kurt laughs along with him on the way to show him their currently door-less bathroom and doesn't even really consider the option until a few minutes later when the very short apartment tour ends in his small bedroom. He sets his laptop and Blaine's face down on his bed and then slides up to sit in front of it, leaning down on his hands to see Blaine properly.   
  
"So, what did you think?" Kurt asks.   
  
"It's New York," Blaine says, echoing Rachel. Kurt knows that Blaine understand just like he does, though, and it sucks that Blaine won't be able to join them for a year -- Kurt has to remember to tuck away money so they can get at least a full sized mattress instead of the twin that already barely fits in the room -- but they all understand it's worth it.   
  
"It is," Kurt agrees. They fall silent again, full of unspoken obvious things to say about missing each other already. He's just about to open his mouth to start detailing his decorating plan for the bedroom when Blaine clears his throat, leaning closer to his screen to get Kurt's attention.   
  
"You know," Blaine says, "maybe sometime we could try that, though."  
  
"What?" Kurt asks, before he realizes what Blaine means. "Oh, yeah, that might be -- interesting."  
  
"I always love seeing you," Blaine says, soft and clearly honest in a way that makes Kurt flush. Which is how Kurt ends up slumped down against his pillows with his mac on his lap, staring sort of blurry-eyed at Blaine as he tells him exactly how much he misses him, his voice dark in a way that starts to make Kurt flush and soothing in a way that accidentally lets Kurt's thoughts run away with him.  
  
"Oh, god," Kurt says, suddenly shifting the laptop off his lap and shaking his head, because he can't do this right now, not with Rachel gone deliberately, sitting outside the apartment building under the assumption he's probably having webcam sex with Blaine.  
  
"Yeah," Blaine says, his voice ridiculously low, "that's it --"  
  
"No," Kurt says, scrunching his nose, "no, stop, that was a bad  _oh, God_ ."  
  
The image of Blaine on his screen goes blurry with movement before changing, Blaine looking down at his screen. "Oh," he says, "was it that bad?"  
  
"Yes," Kurt says, before he sees Blaine's face. "No, not like that, stop it. I just couldn't stop thinking about  _Rachel_  --"  
  
"What? Why? Did you have that one dream again?"  
  
"-- telling us this was healthy and normal. It's like she's orchestrating our sex," Kurt finishes, the moment definitely and entirely lost.   
  
Blaine scrunches up his nose for a second before shaking his head. "We'll try another time," he says, ignoring Kurt's eye roll.   
  
"Sure," Kurt says, sarcastic but maybe intrigued enough by the initial idea to consider it at another time. He can hear the front door close and the chain lock click into place and he points behind his shoulder at the door so Blaine knows Rachel is back and is definitely glad they actually stopped.   
  
"I'm back!" Rachel calls, "did you have fun?"  
  
Kurt groans and Blaine laughs at him. "I'll let you go unpack," Blaine says with an exaggerated frown, "but I'll call later."  
  
"Okay," Kurt says, shutting the laptop just as Rachel slips into his room with a call of Blaine's name. They're going to have to lay out apartment space rules tonight after some more unpacking and before Blaine's phone call, Kurt realizes. Maybe they can pin up a list somewhere made with glitter glue so Rachel doesn't forget it exists.  
  
  
  
 **two.**  
  
Kurt puts down his highlighter as soon as his phone buzzes against his knee. It's not like he was waiting for Blaine to call with his phone plugged into it's charger and tucked right where he could see it as soon as it lit up, except maybe he was -- it's been a rough week.   
  
"Hey, you," he says when he picks up, and he's greeted with a warm noise from Blaine against his ear.   
  
"Hi," Blaine says back, laughing around it, "that is probably the fastest you've ever picked up, and it's not like I'm not flattered, but do you need to talk to me about anything?"  
  
Kurt grins stupidly down at at his (surprisingly and sadly) extremely boring History of Theater textbook and shakes his head, even though Blaine can't see. "No," he says, "and don't judge me for the six PM sappiness, but I just miss you."  
  
"Aww," Blaine says, voice pitched up, "you're adorable."  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes, still at his textbook, this time looking down at a picture of a few guys in period suits captioned  _'Dapper Dans'_ . "Shut up," Kurt says, hit with a warm feeling -- he's lucky, has been lucky, but his boyfriend is kind of the greatest and at least ten times sappier than Kurt is on a regular day.   
  
"Okay," Blaine says, and Kurt zones out reading about the Dapper Dans until he realizes Blaine isn't talking at all deliberately, just breathing in a normal and (probably almost-creepily) comforting way.   
  
"Very funny," Kurt says.   
  
"Fine," Blaine says, "I have a surprise for you. Go online and I'll give you directions."  
  
Kurt sits back and opens his laptop warily. Blaine isn't the best at surprises.   
  
Blaine hums while he waits and Kurt types in his password -- extra secure now that he's realized the extent of Rachel's complete lack of understanding privacy -- and Kurt considers telling him about the story Rachel told him when she got home about how she was excited that she had been asked out by her very first lesbian in New York, a girl named Sunset in one of her acting classes, but Safari loads up before he can mention it and share in the sad humor of it with Blaine.  
  
"Are you there?" Blaine asks.   
  
Kurt hums in the affirmative. "Where to?"   
  
"Craigslist dot com," Blaine says.  
  
Kurt types in the address and waits for further direction; he's only ever used craigslist to poke around for gently used designer pieces, but everything else he's ever clicked has always been sort of disturbing.  
  
"Okay," Blaine says, "click on -- hold on, let me remember, I think it's that one that says  _'missed connections'_ , and you should see something."  
  
Kurt clicks and scrolls, squinting. "I see a bunch of missed connections posted today," he says, slowly.   
  
"Yeah," Blaine says, "but there should be an obvious one."  
  
Kurt starts actually reading the titles, alternately amused and intrigued, but nothing jumps out.  
  
"Hang on," Blaine says, "I don't see it either." He pauses for a while and Kurt clicks into a romantic sounding missed connection about two people sitting outside Barnes and Noble reading  _Vogue Italia_ .   
  
"Oh," Blaine says after a few seconds, "no, wait, it's in the other category, I must have clicked  _'m seeking m_ ' on accident, go there."  
  
"Appropriate," Kurt says, going back and clicking on that link instead, "but I hope you aren't seeking anyone, because last I checked you were stuck with me."  
  
"Rachel sent me this chain mail thing last night and I was bored so I clicked it, and it was all about these really romantic gestures like proposals -- not that I'm proposing yet -- on Craigslist, so I planned this out during English today, you should see it soon."  
  
"Yet," Kurt repeats softly enough that Blaine probably doesn't hear, scrolling. As Blaine talks Kurt finds the obvious one almost right away this time and he clicks on it with growing horror.  
  


> **LET ME YOUR TEENAGE DREAM TONIGHT :)**  (nyc area) pic
> 
> I miss you, man of my dreams! I wish you were closer so I could show you my new skin tight jeans ;)! I will be able to come soon, though! Love you!
> 
> newjeans.jpeg

  
  
"Blaine," Kurt says, his mouth half open, staring blankly at the words and the accompanying picture of just Blaine's crotch and thighs in definitely skin-tight jeans and then blinking rapidly, hoping   
  
"I know it's not as romantic as it could have been," Blaine says, still sounding enthused, much to Kurt's horror, "at least not as romantic as all those great ones in Rachel's email, but I wanted it to be anonymous and just for you."  
  
"Blaine," Kurt repeats, " _anyone_  can see this."  
  
"Yeah," Blaine says, "that adds to it, since you know it's for you but no one else --"  
  
"Go to your email," Kurt says, cutting Blaine off, "seriously go now."  
  
"Okay," Blaine says, slowly. "Did you not like it? The jeans are actually really nice, I got them -- whoa, I have a ton of emails."  
  
Kurt laughs, closing his laptop so he can stop staring (but not before he double clicks and saves the picture of Blaine's jeans, because he's only human) and slides down against a lopsided pillow on his bed. "Maybe because you just advertised yourself as a willing teenage dream in a personals ad to all of the city?"  
  
"These are so creepy," Blaine says, "this is not romantic at all. Oh, gross, this guy wants to --"  
  
"Don't tell me," Kurt says. "You're the one who said you could  _come soon_ . You should just close your laptop and plan revenge on Rachel with me until I get hungry enough to go make dinner."  
  
Blaine makes a disgusted noise over the phone with a few muttered words that Kurt barely makes out enough of to know he doesn't want to hear the rest before he can hear the faint click of Blaine's laptop closing.   
  
"That," Blaine says, sighing, "was the least romantic thing I have ever done."  
  
Kurt sighs instead of challenging Blaine's statement with recalling two years ago, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling but still wishing Blaine was actually the pillow next to him instead of in Ohio, so they could cuddle and forget about all the creepy people on the internet together. "You do just fine on your own, usually. Just please don't ever take romantic advice from Rachel Berry's chain emails, okay?"  
  
"I won't," Blaine says, quiet. "And really?"  
  
"Really," Kurt says, "and I guess it's the thought that counts."  
  
"I really do miss you, like it said," Blaine says, "which you already know. I just keep wanting to make it less hard on us both."  
  
"I know," Kurt says, and for a few seconds they fall into a sort of sad silence until Kurt thinks of the perfect way to get revenge on Rachel for sending out awful idea-inspiring chain emails, a habit she really should have given up back in middle school, anyway.  
  
  
  
 **three.**  
  
The super has a box waiting for Kurt when he and Rachel walk into the building after a lazy and carb-filled post-class dinner and Kurt just barely manages to snatch it away from Rachel's prying hands from the counter.   
  
"What is it?" she asks. "Open it, open it!"  
  
He glances down at the sprawl of writing over the top of the box in Blaine's handwriting as he jogs up the first flight of stairs, Rachel trailing behind. "It says do not open," Kurt says, jabbing a finger at it. "Specifically it says:  _Do not open until alone and away from Rachel,_  exclamation point, smiley face."   
  
Rachel tries to grab it from under his arm, laughing, but Kurt starts taking the steps two at a time to gain space.   
  
"You're playing dirty," she calls after him, "I thought we promised not to target each other's physical flaws!"  
  
"What physical flaw am I targeting?" Kurt asks, rounding up the next landing, "your obnoxious insatiable curiosity or your lack of --"  
  
"My legs," Rachel yells, a little breathless like she's panting, "you know my lack of height, although perfect for niche roles and certain musical number formations, is something I can't help!"  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes and doesn't answer, still taking the steps two at a time and definitely feeling the burn in his calves, though the daily four flights of stairs work-out has really done wonders for his legs.   
  
"It's probably a sex thing!" Rachel yells, loud enough for at least the two floors she's situated in-between to hear, "Like a sex toy! I bet Blaine sent you a dil-- sex thing! Because of all the lack of sex!"  
  
Kurt makes it to their door feeling vaguely horrified when he remembers Rachel has the key. "I will throw this box on your head if you don't shut up," he yells back. He waits for her to come up the stairs and sludge slowly down the hall to their door before fully narrowing his eyes at her.   
  
She shrugs at him, slipping around him to open the doors. "You forgot I had the keys," she says, triumphant, spinning and grabbing the box out of his hands as soon as she opens the door like some advanced spider monkey with excellent coordination skills.   
  
"We are mature adults," Kurt says, darting after her as she runs to the kitchen, "give me my box."   
  
"Admit I won," she says, sing-song, slipping around him. "This is fun, we never have this much fun."   
  
"No," Kurt says, in pursuit, "because there was nothing for you to win."  
  
"I won," she says, "say it and you can have your sex package from Blaine."  
  
Kurt almost corners her but she's sneakier than he gives her credit for, apparently, and surprise-dives between his legs. "Jesus, Rachel,  _fine_ ," he says.   
  
"If you say I win you're agreeing I won --" she starts.  
  
"Yes, fine," Kurt says, cutting her off and ignoring her as she's still speaking, grabbing for the box, "you won, can I --"  
  
"-- and that I can be present when you open the box!" she finishes, placing the box in Kurt's hands.   
  
Kurt stares at her and then at the box. "No, wait, that was --"  
  
"Wasn't that easy? I'll meet you in your room so you can call Blaine and open your sex box," Rachel says, positively bouncing back to the kitchen while Kurt stares after her.   
  
Five minutes later Rachel is sitting on the floor in Kurt's room against his dresser while he calls Blaine from the bed, the box against his thigh as he glares at Rachel and listens to the phone ring.   
  
"You got it!" Blaine says when he picks up, excited, "I was hoping it would come today after you got out of your cooking class, hold on, let me go upstairs."  
  
"It's not a cooking class, it's a master introductory elective class to the culinary arts," Kurt says while he waits for Blaine to get to his room, still in a half-staring match with Rachel where she's sitting cross-legged on the floor looking delighted.   
  
"Okay," Blaine says, sounding a little breathless, the creak of his mattress as he settles down loud enough for Kurt to hear. "Are you alone?"  
  
"N--yes," Kurt says, making a few vaguely violent gestures at Rachel when she shakes her head and smiles, crooking her finger in a threatening way. "Is this something potentially awkward or dangerous, though? Because you never know who might be looking in a window in the the city and --"  
  
" _Kurt_ ," Blaine says, "it's a surprise, I can't tell you! But if you're alone, you can open it now."  
  
Kurt takes a deep, steadying breath and tries to angle the box out of Rachel's sight before he contemplates the tape. "I don't trust you if the word surprise is coming out of your mouth," he says, almost groaning when Rachel pops up near his head with a helpful pair of scissors, mouthing the word 'coming' with silent laughter.  
  
"Are you opening it?" Blaine asks.  
  
Kurt slowly cuts at the triple layer of tape covering the box with one hand. "Yes," he says, warily.   
  
"You know those booths at fairs where little kids can stick their hands in molds and make little imprints of their of them as memories?" Blaine asks, talking fast like he does when he's excited.  
  
"Maybe," Kurt says. He has a moment to hope that maybe Blaine actually just made something romantic like his hand saying  _'I love you'_  in sign language before he gets the side of the box open and sees the vaguely oblong shape wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon and realizes it definitely can't be a replica of Blaine's hand.  
  
Rachel scoots all the way onto the bed, even though Kurt told her to stay on the floor and he tries to elbow her off before she can see, because he has a sinking feeling everything is about to get more awkward than he imagined it might get and that Rachel will have been accurate in what she was yelling for all the apartments to hear.  
  
"And those are so great," Blaine continues, "because then parents can put them on the fireplace mantle and every time they see it they'll feel all warm inside at the memory, right?"  
  
Kurt reaches slowly into the box. "I'm going to assume this isn't something you want me to put on our future fireplace mantle," he says.   
  
"Er -- no," Blaine says, pausing his excited build-up, "did you see it yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Kurt says, deliberately not taking the -- thing, whatever it is -- out of the box while he unties the ribbon so Rachel can't see what his hands are doing because he's pretty sure Blaine actually got him a sex toy, even though he's not quite sure what the strange childhood memory anecdote is for yet.   
  
"Well," Blaine says, sounding excited again, "this is kind of like that, except better! It's from this website that Puck sent me a link to once last year and I just remembered it and realized it might work better than everything that hasn't been, you know, working out, and --"  
  
"Oh my god," Kurt says, just as Rachel shrieks next to him, falling off the bed in her haste to get closer.  
  
"Oh my god," Blaine repeats, "is  _Rachel_  there? I thought you said you were alone!"  
  
Kurt blanches, dropping the newly uncovered flesh-toned dildo onto the mattress and watching it in slow-motion horror as it bounces down and hits Rachel on the head where she's rolling around laughing. "I lost a thing that wasn't a thing so she had to stay, I didn't think you really got me a -- was that a replica of  _you_ ?"   
  
"Yes," Blaine says, panicky, "did Rachel see? I thought it would be romantic! Because you could feel me --"  
  
"Yes and no and stop talking," Kurt says, rushed, unsure if he sound be horrified or letting out the laughter bubbling up in his chest watching Rachel's suddenly matching horrified look as she flings the replica of Blaine's  _dick_  across the room from her head. He definitely ends up bursting out laughing in a hideous, wheezing way that lasts for far too long over Blaine's horrified protests over the phone.  
  
"I'm sorry," Kurt says, wheezing a little, "I love you, I promise, but your dick fell on Rachel's head."  
  
It takes a few minutes for Blaine to stop laughing in a way that sort of also sounds like he might be about to throw up, and in the meantime Kurt shoos Rachel out of his room.   
  
"She's gone," he says, as the noises on Blaine's end of the phone die down. "Next time maybe just tell me when you send me a sex toy instead of using roundabout metaphors involving children."  
  
"Right," Blaine says, coughing out the last of his laughter. "I was trying to make it a more meaningful gift. You should probably throw it out. I miss you."  
  
Kurt smiles at the empty box sitting tipped-over at his bed and tucks the phone closer to his ear. "You're ridiculous," he says, fond.   
  
"Don't remind me," Blaine says.  
  
"In the best way," Kurt amends, smiling despite everything as he lays back against his bed, "if occasionally in a slightly disastrous way."  
  
  
  
 **four.**  
  
Kurt calls Blaine as soon as he gets up to his bedroom, opening the letter he'd picked up from the apartment mailbox from Blaine, thicker than usual. He hadn't received any real mail from Blaine since the incident last month, and despite the previous incident he kind of missed seeing Blaine's handwriting and knowing he was the one person who knew not to send packages containing a ton of candy, only a little every once and a while. Plus, Kurt was kind of getting sick of seeing all the packages Rachel constantly got from her dads, the latest one containing the entire boxset of every season of  _Friends_  for no apparent reason other than the fact Rachel had never seen it and thought it might be informative.  
  
Kurt knew that Blaine was into letter-writing and sending packages and for a while Kurt felt like he was accidentally denying Blaine the option of sending anything at all until he admitted it over the phone last week and let Blaine know he could send anything he wanted with the exception of sex toys and that maybe they could go on a shopping trip when Blaine could finally visit the city.   
  
He hadn't been expecting this letter, though, which is why he opens it as he waits for Blaine to pick up his phone. It's around dinnertime for Blaine, since Kurt had a late class, and Rachel won't be back from her class for at least a half hour so Kurt doesn't feel the need to start dinner or order take-out (depending on how awful they decided their day was, collectively).   
  
Kurt shakes open the envelope when it feels like everything is sort of sticking inside and isn't proud of the little squeak of noise he lets out when he sees the pictures that fall out of a short-looking letter on regular notebook paper.   
  
 _The internet sucks and this isn't as obvious as the other thing, I hope,_  the letter reads, Blaine's handwriting a little sloppier than usual like he wrote it in a hurry,  _but I think this is more romantic then sending you grainy camera pics, right?_  
  
Kurt picks up the polaroids that fell out, three of them upside-down and one right-side up, the one Kurt had seen first, of Blaine from the chest down sitting up against his headboard with his legs spread, just the edge of one sock visible in the very corner of the frame, even though he's otherwise entirely naked.   
  
Blaine's phone goes to voicemail and Kurt hangs up without leaving a message, setting his phone down on the bed and shifting a little and then slowly turning over each polaroid. He remembers the day they found the old camera, in a box in Blaine's attic with a few extra packs of expired film laying next to it. They spent most of the day experimenting with it, taking pictures of each other that went from goofy to decidedly not goofy, Blaine behind the camera telling Kurt to go lay down on this bed and taking pictures until they were gathered against Kurt's side on the bed, developing at different speeds with strange colors while he flushed and watched pictures of himself appear, exposed, and he turned the camera on Blaine next until they forgot about it and the pictures got shoved to the floor to make way for both of them on the bed.   
  
His cellphone rings just as he's flipping over the last picture, even more inappropriate than the others, somehow, where Kurt can see the slickness around Blaine's fingers and between his thighs even under the light leak in the expired film, and he fumbles to answer his phone without looking away.  
  
"Hi, sorry, I was downstairs for a second and just saw that you called," Blaine says by way of greeting.   
  
"I got your letter," Kurt says, surprised when his voice comes out low and a little gritty.   
  
"Oh," Blaine says softly. "Did I do too much again? Did you --"  
  
"Perfect," Kurt says, setting down the last picture to his side, "you're so perfect."  
  
"Oh," Blaine says again, this time in a different tone entirely, and Kurt smiles against his phone.   
  
"Are you alone?" Kurt asks, echoing Blaine during the incident from before and trying to make it sound much better, and when Blaine kind of groans in response he figures all the awkwardness from before has been pretty much forgotten.  
  
They'd tried phone sex a few times during Kurt's senior year after dates where they'd spent too much time in the dark backseat building things up before either of them had to be home and too little time actually getting off, but this is different; they're mostly silent, and Kurt feels like it's  _more_ , knowing that they aren't talking yet, just thinking about each other, thinking about everything they miss doing and want to do and sometimes Kurt can't stand the way he wants what he can't have and how nothing else reaches the same level of last summer where they'd actually ended up with time to start perfecting things.   
  
"Are we doing this?" Blaine asks, his voice low already and Kurt sets his phone by his head on the pillow and lays so his ear is over it.  
  
"I think so," he says, tapping the pads of his fingers just under the waistband of his jeans as they both go silent again, breathing and so obviously anticipating that it's making Kurt feel little pinpricks of touch over his skin --   
  
"Kurt?"  
  
"Yeah?" Kurt asks, getting into it, surprised how how light and high Blaine's voice all of the sudden is but leaning up to pull of his shirt while he waits for an answer. He can hear Blaine shift against something, maybe homework papers or his sheets to get more comfortable and he shifts down, too.   
  
"What?" Blaine asks.  
  
"You said my name," Kurt says, smiling, except -- someone else says his name as Blaine starts to talk again. "Crap," he says.   
  
"Kurt," Rachel says, this time a kind of pitiful whine that sounds like it's coming from somewhere in the living room, and Kurt is pretty sure she might be crying, even though the rush of finally being turned on with Blaine buzzing around in his head is sort of preventing him from hearing that well.   
  
"It's Rachel," Kurt says, not bothering to not sound disappointed, "I should go see what's wrong."  
  
"Do you have to?" Blaine asks, just as Rachel sobs loudly from the living room.   
  
"Apparently," Kurt says, sitting up and shrugging his shirt back on, switching his phone from hand to hand to accomplish it. "We're finishing this later, though."  
  
"I have homework I can do in the meantime," Blaine says, sounding happy at the prospect of revisiting the moment in the future, which Kurt can't blame him for, considering their track record of un-revisited failed moments over the past three months. "Go be the greatest roommate."  
  
Kurt hangs up feeling only mildly annoyed at having to get out of bed, but he's glad he does when he sees Rachel curled up on the couch under her big fluffy throw blanket with only her eyes uncovered, crying.  
  
"I auditioned for the university production," she says shakily when Kurt comes around and sits on the edge of the couch near her hip, "and they said I wasn't what they were looking for but that I could be in the  _ensemble_ . Me!"  
  
He pats her forehead only because she looks genuinely devastated. "I heard the professor they have producing the show this semester is a hard ass with no real connections," he says, completely making it up just to make her feel better, but instead she just turns into her throw blanket and cries loudly.   
  
He rolls his eyes, a little more fond than he means, and thinks of calling Blaine later in the night and figures he has nothing else to accomplish between now and then so he shifts closer onto the couch and pets at the top of her hair. "That girl who lives downstairs in your acting class and my culinary class, Sunset -- "  
  
"She likes me," Rachel hiccups, cutting him off and peeking over her blanket to frown at him, "but I don't want to go to her apartment. I'd only make that exception for Barbra or maybe Sutton Foster  
  
Kurt shakes his head, holding in a laugh. "I was going to say she gave me a bottle of wine the other day," he says, "and that season two is a great season of Friends, so we could start that."   
  
"I'm not talented enough to deserve wine," she says, going back under the cover, and Kurt shakes his head again and ignores the idea of wine but puts on Friends anyway until Rachel stops crying and comes out from her cocoon, joining him for a few episodes before falling asleep against his side.   
  
He tucks her in on the couch and leaves after turning everything off to go call Blaine back, finally, and figures at least this time the interruption wasn't completely horrific.  
  
  
 **and --**  
  
"Door," Rachel says, right as the static, scratchy noise of the buzzer to their apartment goes off.   
  
Kurt stares at the back of her head on the couch and then looks down at what he's doing, currently slaving away chopping up vegetables for their northern-Italy inspired salad dinner while Rachel sits and makes her way through another season of  _Friends_  and a bottle of wine.   
  
"Cooking," Kurt says back, sing-song and a tiny bit (justifiably) snippy. The buzzer sounds again, twice in a row.  
  
"Door," Rachel says. "Buzzer. Buzzer."   
  
" _Rachel,_ " Kurt says, "get it."  
  
She spins around on the couch, her chin hooking over the back of it, a tissue wadded up in her hand. "Ross and  _Rachel_ ," she says, shaking her head as the buzzer goes off again and then spinning back around so she bounces a little on the couch before settling down again.   
  
"You are the worst roommate," Kurt says, setting down his knife once he realizes he's sort of wagging it at the back of her head -- she isn't that bad, at least -- and wiping his hands on the dish towel hanging from the broken and sideways handle of their cabinet that doesn't open. "The worst," he repeats as he walks by her, further annoyed when the buzzer goes off again.   
  
"Yay," Rachel says from her spot on the couch. Kurt assumes it's to something happening on  _Friends_ , but it might also be because he's getting the door.  
  
"It's probably a mass murderer or someone trying to raise our rent," he says, even though she clearly isn't paying attention. "Chandler and Monica are so much better, anyway -- Hummel-Berry residence."  
  
The voice that comes through the speaker is scratchy and dim through the poor connection to downstairs but it's definitely not a voice belonging to a mass murderer or vindictive landlord. "I thought Rachel made you agree to Berry-Hummel because it was in alphabetical order."  
  
"Oh my god," Kurt says, his finger frozen solidly to the buzzer button. " _Blaine._ "  
  
"Hi," Blaine says, and his next words get cut off by the clang-hiss sound of the speaker when Kurt presses the button to unlock the door for him, but Kurt doesn't even care because he's pretty sure he may have accidentally cut himself while chopping vegetables and is now suffering from a hallucination, bleeding out on the kitchen floor while Rachel ignores his untimely death and continues to marathon  _Friends_ .   
  
Just in case he did hallucinate the scratchy, dim voice through the buzzer Kurt stands completely still next to the door, everything else going on in the apartment and in his thoughts white noise until the knocker to their door nearly shakes it off it's hinges.   
  
Kurt unchains it and flings it open before Blaine can even finished his favored rhythmic knock and Kurt finds him, definitely real, standing in the doorway with one hand raised to knock, his cheeks flushed with cold above a thick wrapped scarf, grinning.   
  
"Surprise," Blaine says, quiet.   
  
Kurt opens his mouth and nothing really comes out, not even an invite, so he pauses and just stares for a second. "Wait here," he says in a rush.  
  
Both of Blaine's eyebrows raise but he shrugs, eyes bright and amused in a way Kurt barely registers, already turning around and heading toward Rachel on the couch.   
  
"Rachel," he says, stepping in front of the tv and leaning down quickly to eject her DVD and stuff it in it's case along with the rest of the season.   
  
She makes a whining, sad noise that Kurt ignores, turning around and gathering up her bowl of popcorn and her purse and then taking the throw blanket off of her lap and tucking everything under one of his arms before using his other arm to pull her up off the couch and hand her everything except her purse. "You have to go," he says, rummaging through her purse until he gets her cellphone.   
  
"Blaine!" Rachel says, noticing him in the doorway while Kurt pulls up her contacts, "Blaine, have you ever seen Friends? Like, really watched it? It's so --"  
  
"Here," Kurt says, handing her phone and purse, "Sunset in your Acting For Young Starlets or whatever class who offered you that sleepover is expecting you downstairs. You can make her tell you how great you are and watch more Friends until you become Rachel Berry again, okay?"  
  
"She wants to be lesbians with me," Rachel says, shifting all the things in her arms so she can grab at the half-empty bottle of wine on the table, too.   
  
"Good," Kurt says, distracted when he turns to usher her out (grabbing the wine back) and sees Blaine again.   
  
"Hi, Rachel." Blaine says as she walks past. "Bye, Rachel."  
  
" _Blaine,_ " Kurt says, overwhelmed all at once. Blaine just grins at him, stepping inside but turning away from Kurt's open arms to lean his head out of the doorway.  
  
"Just remember to tell her the only woman in your heart is Barbra, Rachel! And maybe Sutton Foster!" he yells down the hallway.  
  
Kurt can't help but laugh, the sound dying in his throat as soon as Blaine turns and shuts the door behind himself, leaning against it and just looking warmly at Kurt.   
  
"She planned this," Blaine says, soft, stepping away from the door and into Kurt's space, one hand reaching out so he can brush his knuckles over the line of Kurt's jaw. "Not the drunk, Friends-watching, depressed because it's been almost four months and she's not a star part, I'm sure, but the me part."  
  
"You," Kurt says, leaning forward to close the space between them and wrapping his arms low around Blaine's back. "You're  _here._ "  
  
"I am," Blaine says, sounding excited again, overly loud in Kurt's ear. "She'll be okay, right?"  
  
Kurt nods against the side of Blaine's head, breathing in and squeezing him tighter. "Sunset is harmless," he says, "we've had a pact since I moved in that she'd take in Rachel if I needed alone time, she's in my cooking class. And Rachel's not even moping anymore, she's just really obsessed with  _Friends_  and wine, it's kind of disturbing. Her vocal exercises the other day included the theme song sung in different styles."  
  
"Hey," Blaine says, stepping away from Kurt with an overly-dramatic hurt look on his face, "why did you yell at me when I called it your cooking class? You said that I --"  
  
"Shut up," Kurt says, grinning and reaching out to pull Blaine back, "this is the most romantic thing you've ever done, showing up in New York -- even if it's with Rachel's ill-advised involvement -- don't ruin it with memories."  
  
"That's silly," Blaine says, walking so he's backing Kurt up through the living room, not even stoping to see the greatly improved and deposit-safe changes Kurt has made since his last webcam tour, "memories are great. In fact, I have memories of you I never want to forget but I definitely want to revisit."  
  
Kurt reaches behind them to open his bedroom door, pausing only when he realizes Blaine is momentarily distracted by raising his eyebrows at the still doorless bathroom between Kurt and Rachel's room. It's not Kurt's fault that he and Rachel actually can't figure out how to buy a cheap replacement door in the city, even though he's totally seen those weird underground-looking hardware stores around.   
  
"Any memories in particular?" Kurt asks, distracting Blaine from the lack of bathroom door with a dry and dragging kiss to the side of his jaw. As soon as he does he feels like everything since he's been away from Blaine is built up all at once, aching under his skin just as the constant ache of missing Blaine in person starts to fade away.   
  
"Should I take you out to dinner first?" Blaine asks, still stepping them backwards and seeming genuinely unconcerned with dinner in the least, "Or unpack before my clothes get wrinkled? Or tell you I'm staying the whole week because McKinley is flooded and closed?"  
  
"A week?" Kurt asks, thighs hitting the edge of his bed from behind. He pauses, kissing down Blaine's neck. "I think we'll find another opportunity to grab dinner."   
  
"Good, because --"  
  
"Please don't compare me to dessert," Kurt says, cutting Blaine off and tugging him down onto the bed.   
  
"I wasn't going to," Blaine protests, rolling so he's hovering over Kurt, close enough for Kurt to pull him down by his neck and kiss him senseless. "I'm not that bad!"   
  
Kurt rolls his eyes and doesn't provide anecdotal evidence, of which he has a lot from just the past few months in particular. He actually has Blaine in his bed in New York and he's not dreaming and nothing is embarrassing, so he leans up to meet Blaine instead of talking and finally, finally kiss him for real, his hands coming around to splay over his shoulder blades as Blaine laughs warmly and happily, the sound vibrating through Kurt's mouth and under his fingertips.  
  
He'll have to thank Rachel at some point.  
  
"Stop thinking about Rachel," Blaine says, breaking away from their kiss when Kurt pauses.  
  
"Good idea," Kurt says, pressing at Blaine's shoulders to get him to come back down.  
  
"I'm full of them," Blaine says, grinning, which Kurt could also definitely provide anecdotal evidence to the contrary for, but he can't be bothered, really, not with Blaine rolling his hips down in time with the roll of his lips and nothing in the future for at least the next few hours to interrupt, bother, or ruin the moments ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ post date: 9/24/11.


End file.
